


both fallen under

by fauhnas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Karaoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauhnas/pseuds/fauhnas
Summary: Clarke had never actually seen Bellamy partake in karaoke night before. Even when he was plastered, which didn’t happen often, no amount of egging on had gotten him to take the mic before tonight.





	both fallen under

**Author's Note:**

> The cast was recently asked what song their character would choose for karaoke and Bob picked We Belong by Pat Benatar.   
> I may have gotten a little carried away. 
> 
> Title from, you guessed it, We Belong by Pat Benatar

“C'mon Blake, you’re up.” Raven said, lightheartedly grabbing Bellamy’s arm in attempts to remove him from his seat in their booth.

Amused by the scene before her, Clarke smiled into her glass rather than trying to help Bellamy out of his mess. She reached out, giving his hand a sympathetic squeeze under the table as Raven continued to tug on his arm, both knowing she wouldn’t give up any time soon. He shot Clarke one last pleading glance before finally allowing their friend to pull him from his seat, but she just shrugged. He should know by now not to make bets against Raven Reyes.

“I’m not drunk enough for this, Raven,” he tried one last time, desperate to talk his way out.

“Maybe you’ll consider that next time you think I can’t convince Monty to ask for the bartender’s number,” she said cheerfully. “Now get your ass on that stage.”

“For the record, I really like Harper, so hopefully there won’t _be_ a next time,” Monty piped in from across the table, and Clarke rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Harper, Clarke knew just as well as everyone else that if he and Miller got their heads out of their asses, Monty wouldn’t have been giving his number to random bartenders.

“Don’t worry man,” Jasper added. “She’s supposed to set me up next.”

“Relax Jasper,” Raven said, still shoving Bellamy towards the stage. “There’s enough of my love making skill to go around.”

“You’re sure that’s the phrasing you want to use?” Clarke asked as Raven slid in next to next to her, effectively parrying Bellamy’s attempts to reclaim his seat. Raven winked at her theatrically.

“I know what I’m about, Griffin,” she said and turned to nod encouragingly at Bellamy.

He huffed out a halfhearted “I hate you, Reyes,” and Clarke laughed along with the others as Bellamy trudged up to the small stage.

*

Clarke loved karaoke night. It was her favorite event held at the bar they frequented, putting Clarke firmly on team Things Work Out Between Monty and the Bartender, if only so she and her friends wouldn’t have to find a new haunt. She rarely ever took the mic, even more rarely remembered the next day if she did, the copious amounts of alcohol it took to get her on the stage washing the experience from her mind.

It was much more fun to watch the others participate, and more often than not she and Bellamy ended up the only two left in their booth, laughing until they couldn’t breathe at Jasper and Monty’s rendition of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, while Raven sat in the front row making sure their friends didn’t stumble off the stage.

There was something unexpectedly _pure_ about listening to drunk people butcher well loved songs, and then of course, the pleasant surprise when someone with actual talent would grace the stage, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to argue about which coach they would choose on The Voice. Occasionally they would blurt out a coaches name at the same time, and the giddy grin Bellamy would give her almost made her want to kiss him.

Almost. Not that she would. People just don’t go around kissing their best friends. And besides, it’s not like she thought about kissing him at other times too. Not that much anyway. It was whatever.

*

She had never actually seen Bellamy partake in karaoke night before. Even when he was plastered, which didn’t happen often, no amount of egging on had gotten him to take the mic before tonight. Part of her was even surprised he had agreed to Raven’s bet in the first place, even though she knew he had been hopeful things would work out between Monty and Miller.

When he was finally up on the stage selecting a song, she let out a loud whoop, and Raven whistled as Jasper joined in on the ruckus with a loud _lets go Bellamy!_

He almost looked sick, and Clarke would have been concerned if she hadn’t known he had no problem being in front of a crowd. Maybe Bellamy was just a horrible singer. That would certainly explain why he would just smile at their off key antics during road trips, never singing along.

Shooting Raven a death glare, Bellamy walked up to the mic and cleared his throat, the sound barely audible throughout the noisy bar. He turned slightly toward the flat screen set up to play the lyrics, which was also toward his friends, and Clarke found herself wishing their booth was on the other wall of the bar, just so she could have a peek at what Bellamy was about to sing.

Suddenly, the opening notes of Pat Benatar’s We Belong were released into the stuffy air of the bar, and Clarke found it all too easy to block out the low hum of chatter that filled the room, focusing only on the sounds crackling from the speakers. They had been best friends for years, he had to have known how much she loved that song. In fact she _knew_ he knew, and that made something bubble in her belly that felt a lot like hope.

Eyes glued to Bellamy from the moment he started singing, Clarke was enamored with the music of his voice instantly. He wasn’t a great singer, but he wasn’t awful by any means.

His singing held similar tones to his speaking voice, it was warm and gravely and so _Bellamy_ she had to convince herself it was only the burn of the alcohol making her insides heat up.

When the chorus came around for the last time, Bellamy finally tore his eyes away from the screen, meeting Clarke’s gaze for the first time since he stepped up onto the stage, the lyrics he sang almost sounding like a whisper.

_We belong to the light_   
_We belong to the thunder_   
_We belong to the sound of the words_   
_We’ve both fallen under_   
_Whatever we deny or embrace_   
_For worse or for better_   
_We belong, we belong,_   
_We belong together_

The last notes faded out, but Bellamy’s stare never wavered, an emotion Clarke was just barely too far away to read flickering across his face. In the back of her mind she registered their friend’s cheers, and as he stepped down from the stage she had to look away. It had almost been like he had been singing to _her_ in those last few moments, and something had snapped inside her under the intensity of his gaze. She had known him too long, too intimately, to plausibly entertain the idea that his display had been meaningless. It was _Bellamy_. Of _course_ it had meant something.

She stood before he could get to their table, haphazardly scooting over Raven’s lap to escape the suddenly too small booth. Unable to meet his regard when he reached them, Clarke let her eyes search out the back door as she heard Jasper give Bellamy an enthusiastic slap on the back.

“That was great man,” Monty chirped, Jasper and Raven hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, great,” Clarke mumbled, pushing past him toward the back door. “I need some air.”

She wasn’t sure if she imagined his voice calling after her as she shoved her way through the crowded bar.

*

When she was finally alone in the dimly lit alleyway, Clarke’s head finally began to clear.

Logically, she knew he hadn’t been singing to her, not a love song, not like that. Not like they had been the only two people in that whole bar, even as their friends had sat all around her, cheering him on.

It sure had felt like it though.

The bar door creaked open behind her, familiar footsteps joining her in the brisk autumn air. She turned around slowly, taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes. Bellamy looked just as anxious as she felt.

“I’m sorry,” she started. “You were really good, I just -” she took a deep breath, continuing before her brain got the better of her, “- it just seemed like you were singing to _me_ ,” she ended quickly, a crease forming between her brows as she searched his eyes for anything that could make her not regret what she had just assumed. He was silent for a for a beat, trepidation rising in his eyes.

“Um,” he started, “I’m really sorry, Raven thought it would be a good idea and - and then I lost the bet, I know you don’t feel the same way, but um,” his gaze wandered aimlessly before he finally met her eyes again. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he ran a hand through his hair, “but you’re my best friend Clarke, I didn't want to make things weird.”

Hesitantly stepping toward him, Clarke allowed Bellamy’s words to sink in, a strange calm seeping over her body, though every nerve was on edge. She reached out slowly, placing one hand on his shoulder while the other went to the back of his neck, cautiously gauging his reaction as she anchored their bodies closer.

Bellamy visibly relaxed, allowing his forehead to rest gently on Clarke’s, softly releasing the breath he must have been holding. She moved one of her hands from his neck to his hair and began rubbing soothing circles into his scalp with her fingertips.

She couldn’t keep lying to him, couldn’t keep lying to herself, not in a moment like this.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she whispered before tilting her head up and bringing his lips to her own.

Is was a soft kiss, lingering, full of a thousand possibilities. When they broke apart she let her forehead fall against his clavicle, and Bellamy wrapped his arms around her the same way he had so many times during their friendship. And in that way, she supposed she had always known they would end up here.

“I think we do, for the record,” she said, smiling into his collar bone.

“‘We do,’ what?” Bellamy’s whispered question warmed her cheek.

“Belong together,” Clarke answered, as she pulled him into another kiss.


End file.
